Rejection Role
by Portmanteu
Summary: In which Clint discovers a painful truth. Nothing but pure angst and heartbreak. Rated mature strictly for language and the amount of pain contained within.


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing beyond the scenarios my twisted little brain spits out. All characters contained within belong to bigger and better entities than I. Please do not sue, as I own literally nothing beyond the clothes on my back. Also, grammar and tenses sometimes escape me, so please, be kind.**_

_**also, this was done as a collaboration with a fellow FrostHawk writer, but she does not have an account here. Credit where credit is due, love.**  
_

* * *

There wasn't even time for Loki to get the door properly open before it was wrenched out of his hand. Then he was being pulled inside by the front of his shirt and slammed into the wall, an arm pressing across his chest to keep him in place as a booted foot kicked the door shut. He looked, startled, down into the furious eyes glaring at him with a rage he hadn't seen in a very long time.

"How long?" Clint seethed, his voice sounding strangled as it pushed between clenched teeth.

Loki blinked in confusion. "You'll have to be more specific, Agent Barton," he drawled. His use of the archer's title only seemed to enrage him further, and the arm across his chest pressed him even harder into the wall at his back.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" The hand twisted tighter in the fabric of his shirt. "Did you think I was so stupid as to keep blindly following you for the rest of my life?"

Loki's patience was beginning to wear thin, and he brought a hand up to shove Clint back, matching his glare with a cool look of his own. He stepped away from the wall before tugging Clint's grip free of his shirt, brushing the wrinkles from the fabric with an exaggerated care.

"You're obviously upset about something, Agent Barton," Loki said, his tone steady. "But I cannot answer any of your questions until I know _what_ it is you are blathering on about."

"How long," Clint repeated, his voice gone low and deadly, "have you been letting Thor fuck you?"

A small "Oh," slipped out before Loki had a chance to contain his surprise at Clint's words.

"Oh? OH," Clint railed. "Didn't think I knew about you letting your _brother_ fuck you? Were you ever going to tell me? Or did you just hope I'd never find out?" And with that, he slammed his fist into the wall next to Loki's head.

The demi-god shrank back slightly from the display of anger. He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again just as quickly. He was unsure of how to proceed; of how much Clint really knew.

"No lies, Loki. I can see the wheels turning in your head. I want the truth. Now."

Loki couldn't stop the smirk from spreading across his face. "You ask the truth from the God of Lies?"

Clint snarled, a feral, guttural sound. "Don't fuck with me! I don't want to hear all that talk of you being a god, just answer the question!"

Green eyes stared impassively as Clint seethed, taking in the angry flush of his face and the heaving pants of his breath.

"It is not an answer you will like, Agent Barton," he finally said. "And it is not an easy one to give. My past with my brother is just that; _mine_. And I owe you no explanation beyond that."

Clint's breathing hitched at those words, and something in his face changed. His frown turned thunderous, his hands clenched into tight, shaking fists, and his eyes leveled a glare at Loki that would have killed him where he stood had it been able.

"Oh, you _owe_ me," he intoned, his voice low and deadly, every bit the trained killer. "You owe me so much more than an explanation. But I'll take that for now. The rest I can collect later."

Loki's lip curled into a derisive sneer. "I think not. Do not dare to presume to order me about, Barton. You will not like the result."

"Try me."

"Fine. We shall see how much you value the truth once it has been revealed," Loki spat. "My brother has been…_fucking me_, as you so crudely put it, since long before you were conceived, and we will continue on long after you have turned to dust. You need know nothing beyond that."

Clint's teeth clenched, the bulge of the muscle prominent in his jaw. "And all this time we've…been together? Did you…"

Loki's eyes went wide in mock surprise and he met Clint's glare evenly. "Why, Agent Barton? Are you asking if I've been _faithful_?" He uttered a surprisingly melodious laugh. "How very childish of you to expect such a thing of me. I hadn't realized we were in a _committed_ relationship. _I_ certainly never agreed to such a thing." At that, he pushed away from the wall and skirted around the glowering archer.

"Don't you fucking walk away," Clint growled, his right hand shooting out and capturing Loki's wrist as he passed. "We are _not_ done here."

Loki froze in place, looked down at his wrist and then turned to glare at Clint. "I would suggest," he said, quietly, "that you unhand me, before I am forced to remind you exactly how frail you mortals are. I may allow you to manhandle me in the bedroom; but that is for my own pleasure. Should I wish it, I could take you apart with naught but my bare hands."

"Then go ahead," Clint taunted. "Go on. Show me how strong you are. How much of a _God_ you are. You're nothing. You want me to treat you like a little whore when we're together. Hurt you, humiliate you, shame you until you fucking cry. How God-like is that? Won't your _brother_ play those games with you? Is that why you needed me to do it?"

"Still your tongue, Barton," Loki hissed. "You tread on dangerous ground."

"I'll tread wherever I goddamn well please," Clint roared. "Just tell me why?! Why did you start this with me if you had Thor all along?"

Loki turned to him then with an utterly acidic expression and jerked his wrist free of Clint's grasp. "Brutal honesty, yes?" Loki said, his voice becoming dangerously cold. "I warn you now, if you keep up this line of questioning, I will pull no punches."

"I want to know," Clint growled, "why you keep me around if you have Thor. What am I to you?"

Loki raised a sardonic eyebrow. "At first? Merely a challenge. I had no idea you would be so... receptive to me. After that, it was just a matter of novelty; my own pet mortal, wrapped around my finger. And you danced so well for me, my Hawk. I couldn't have picked a better plaything."

Clint just stared, unable or unwilling to reconcile what he was hearing and what he was feeling; he'd known never to expect much of an actual relationship with Loki, but to hear the entirety of their time together couched in those words sent a sharp dagger of betrayal straight through his chest.

They stood staring at each other for what felt like an eternity before Clint spoke.

"I don't believe you." His voice was rough, with a slight tremor to it that refused to be quelled. "You can't tell me that all this time, I've just been a... a _pet_! Is that what I am? Something to keep you occupied while... While, what? What exactly are you doing with _me_ when you have _him?_

"A pet," Loki mused. "Yes, I suppose that's as good a word as any. You put entirely too much stock in your physical attachments, Barton. It is a mortal trait I am thankful I do not have. And as for the other, I have already told you. Do not make me repeat myself, my answers will not change."

Clint's shoulders slumped further as each word weighed down on him like stones underwater. His eyes searched those of the demigod frantically, searching for any hint of a lie, but he could read nothing from Loki's closed expression. Finally, he could take no more and let his eyes fall to the floor between them, staring at the tiles as if they held the answers Loki would not give.

"Come now, my Hawk," Loki chided. "Did you truly think that I would allow myself to become enamored with you? Your mortal life is over so quickly, a brief flash compared to mine. Why would I open myself to such pain?"

"Just…shut up," Clint murmured brokenly, eyes still downcast. "Don't want to hear anymore."

"Oh, _NOW_ you want to stop? _NOW_ you've had your fill of the truth? I warned you, did I not, that you would not like where this path led. But you just _HAD_ to know," Loki paused for a moment and studied the man before him, before continuing on, a small note of surprise in his voice. "This is more than just lust and childish attraction for you, isn't it? That's why you're so upset."

"Of course, I'm upset," the archer barked. "I thought you cared. About me. About _us_. And I just found out that everything I thought was true and good in my life was just a filthy, fucking lie. That has a way of making a person angry, right, _sir_? Isn't that what happened to you, back in Asgard? Or did you lie about that, too, so I would feel sorry for you?"

Loki stiffened at the smaller man's words, and somewhere deep inside he felt the stab of his conscious. But they had already gone too far, and the God's twisted pride would allow no retreat, no surrender. "This is entirely different, Agent Barton."

Clint laughed hollowly. "I don't see how. You took everything I knew, everything I _was_, and made it into something else. Tell me how that's different."

Loki merely glared, trying to silence Clint with his eyes alone. Clint wouldn't back down, however. If anything, it only made him angrier.

"You couldn't possibly understand what it's like to have your entire existence reduced to a lie, Barton," Loki hissed.

"No?" Clint said, stepping forward once again. "You made me into a monster; you turned the people I trusted the most into my worst enemies, and I _still_ stood up for you. I should be dancing on your grave right now, but I'm still right here. Tell me I don't understand, one more time."

"I never asked you for that," Loki said, taking a step back. "I never wanted you to suffer for what I did. What I put you through."

Clint could only stare, and swallow back the anger he wanted to spew at the fickle god.

"You didn't have to ask," Clint said. "Even now, I would do the same. But you can't expect me to just accept that you and your brother... that you're... Don't ask me to be okay with that."

"It is not a matter of asking, Barton," Loki said, leveling an even look at his archer. "Whether you are 'okay' with it or not, it is what it has always been. The fact that you now know is inconsequential, other than I do not need to hide it any longer." His eyes fell, then, the first outward sign of any remorse. "I never imagined you finding out this way. How did you learn of this?"

"I'm an assassin, remember," Clint said flatly. "Trained spy? I know how to pick up on clues, and find information. Sometimes I find out more than I want."

"Simple deduction, then? And did you actually have any _proof_ before you started hurling accusations," Loki spat, his eyes narrowing. "Or was that just a ploy in order to trick me into revealing all?"

"I suspected you of _something_, just wasn't sure what. But I got all the proof I needed this afternoon. All I want from you now are answers."

Loki went still at the archer's words. "What proof," he asked quietly.

"I followed you," Clint screamed, abandoning the struggle to rein in his rage and pain. "I _saw_ you…together." His hand tightened into fists as he started to pace, agitated and unable to hold still as he threw verbal punches at the demi-god. "I felt so stupid at first. 'Oh, it's only Thor. He's just visiting with his brother.' Nothing sinister about that, right?! I thought I was being paranoid. Insecure. But no. Turns out I was absolutely dead on. I just never expected it to be…him." Clint's voice broke on the last word, and he turned shadowed eyes up to meet Loki's gaze. "Why him? I…I can't compete with that. I can't accept that." He took a deep shuddering breath, his rage momentarily spent.

Loki merely stared back, his expression once again unreadable, and said, "There is no competition. You are nowhere near equal to my brother, in neither stature nor importance to me. Whether you accept it or not, Thor has, and will always, be forefront in my heart. There is nothing you can do to change that, my Hawk. Do not presume as such."

Clint nodded, as if to himself, and let his head fall. "So I'm nothing to you, then," he finally said, voice devoid of all emotion. "Just a plaything until you get tired of it."

He turned, then, to the door at his back and made as if to open it. In a moment of sudden panic, Loki managed to slam the door shut with an arm that shook with more than just adrenaline and nerves.

"I never said you were 'nothing' to me, my Hawk," he said, his voice low and deadly in Clint's ear. "Merely that my brother is so much more. I would not see you leave my side, Clint."

Clint leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the door, eyes screwed shut. "I don't want to leave you. But I can't stay knowing that I'd be sharing you with him. Can you understand that?"

"I cannot say that I do," Loki murmured. "I take no umbrage with Thor's other lovers, nor he with mine. What he and I share is outside all other connections; above them. Why can we not do the same?"

"Because that's not enough for me," Clint sobbed. "I don't want to _share_ you; I want you to be _mine_; the same way I'm already yours."

Loki felt an unexpected flare of pain at Clint's admission. "No one owns me, my Hawk. Not even Thor," Loki said stiffly, still hovering close to the archer's back. A small part of him longed to lay a soothing hand on the smaller man's shoulder, but he suspected that he would be rebuffed.

Clint turned back to Loki, tears streaking his face, and said, "It's not about owning you. It's about trusting you not to hurt me. Knowing that you... love me. At least enough to want to only be with me."

"Monogamy is not something we tend to practice in Asgard," Loki said slowly. "Our lives are so long compared to yours, and as such, the prospect of thousands of years with the same partner seems a bit daunting. It is a foreign concept to us."

"Compared to yours, my life measures out to what? A few months? And I want to spend it with you, Loki," Clint whispered, eyes downcast, hating the pleading note that had crept into his voice. "You won't have to spend thousands of years with me, and when I'm gone, you can go right back to Thor, like nothing ever happened. Can't you do that? For me?"

"You would have me deny my nature for a mortal sentiment?" Loki asked, his expression closing off once again. He ignored the wounded look on Clint's face and the unfamiliar twinge of conscience it provoked. "I will never again allow those trifles to dictate my life."

Clint blinked his eyes clear, though lifting them to meet Loki's was still too much effort.

"I've never asked you for anything before," he said hollowly. "I never wanted anything but you. It was enough just to have you. But I don't; I never did, did I?"

Loki's stare was heavy, Clint could feel the weight of his gaze as he mulled over his words. He'd never before bared his feelings like this, to anyone, and now that he'd said it, it was too late to pretend that he hadn't. At that moment, Loki held his entire soul in his hands. Clint could only hope he didn't crush it too badly.

"No one has ever been able to lay claim to me," Loki finally said, his voice cold and even. "I will not allow it. Others have tried, believe me, and they have begged and pleaded much more desperately than you. Do not lower yourself like this, Barton, or you will become just like them. And forgotten just as easily."

"But why," Clint cried, his voice shaking. "What are you so afraid of? Why would it be so bad to allow yourself to…feel deeply about someone other than Thor?"

"Because," Loki roared, his patience at an end. "If I allow myself to care for someone in that way, someone other than my brother, then they hold the power to hurt me. If I can be claimed then I can be dismissed; tossed away! I will not allow such a thing to come to pass. I will not be the one to be discarded!"

"I would never do that to you," Clint murmured.

"Oh, you say that _now,_" Loki hissed. "They _all_ claim such in the beginning. But when the bloom comes off the rose, then it's on to someone new. And I am left behind, like flotsam washed up after a storm. No, my Hawk, do not presume that I will ever place myself in such a position again."

Clint raised his eyes to Loki's, searching their emerald depths. "So, to avoid rejection you just…what? Cut off your feelings? Has it all been just lust and pleasure for you? Because I don't think it has. I know it wasn't just that for me. I saw glimpses of something else in you, too. Don't deny it."

Loki's gaze slid off to the side, and he stepped back, putting a little distance between himself and the archer. His head was spinning from a combination of rage, frustration and, truth be told, a little regret. Things were not supposed to happen this way. In all his long life, Loki had never faced down someone like his Hawk. All previous dalliances had been over quickly, and the terms clear cut well before anything began. This had become something…different; complicated. And for the first time since he could remember, Loki was unsure of what to say next.

Clint waited, watching as Loki's face, usually so impassive, ran through the gamut of emotions. His jaw clenched, eyebrows drew together, brow furrowing. Confusion warred with anger which in turn gave way to a deep sadness. It was gratifying in a way, to know that Loki was not as cold as he made himself out to be. To discover that he was just as broken and afraid as Clint himself.

"Are you certain you are not merely seeing what you want to see?" Loki asked, eyes still averted. "Wishful thinking, Agent Barton. It does not suit you. I would suggest, if you want to hold any semblance of sanity, you discard that foolish habit. It will earn you nothing but disappointment."

The words were a mere smoke-screen. Clint knew Loki used his words as a weapon and weilded them with just as much skill as he himself with his bow, but he also used them as a shield. The trick was to find the chink in the armor, to find the one tiny truth the lies were built around. He had never bothered to before; he'd allowed Loki his lies because they'd seemed harmless enough at first.

Looking back now, Clint knew he should have been more guarded. He should never have let himself become so complacent, or so trusting. The two of them weren't really so different, when it came down to it. He just never thought he would be one of the people who needed to be guarded against.

The thought actually made him angry all over again. When had he _ever_ given Loki any reason to distrust him? Everything about his feelings was all or nothing, he thought he'd made that clear when they first began this... he didn't even know what to call it anymore.

Apparently, for Loki, at least, it was nothing more than a convenient arrangement.

Clint glared across the space between them, his anger wiping the sorrow clear of his head for the moment as he remembered all over again what he'd seen that afternoon. What he'd heard. Two people he was supposed to trust - one with his life and the other with the rest of him - betraying him at the same time, with the same actions.

And still, Loki refused to look at him.

With a sudden flare of rage, Clint shoved Loki into the wall, hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt as he pinned him in place. Loki looked down at him, shocked at the sudden violence from the mortal he'd thought was cowed. Looking into his eyes proved a mistake, as he could see all the hurt, rage and betrayal warring within.

"It's not wishful thinking when it's true," Clint growled. "I _know_ I mean more to you than this. Why won't you just say it?"

His voice cracked on the last two words, his glare flickering between anger and hurt. Steel-blue eyes flicked back and forth between green while hands trembled against a chest that had yet to pull in the breath that had been knocked out of it.

Loki made no move to dislodge Clint's hands from him this time, he merely stared back into those desperate eyes. "I will not spout meaningless platitudes merely to soothe your bruised ego, Barton," Loki said, his voice clipped and hard as diamond.

"Bruised ego," Clint repeated slowly. "Is _that_ what you think is wrong here?" His face twisted into a snarl of rage, and his knuckles went white clenched around the fabric of Loki's shirt. "Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me," he demanded. When no answer was forthcoming, Clint yanked the taller man forward before slamming him back against the wall, hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Do. You. Remember?!"

"You have heart," Loki hissed, glaring down at the desperate man before him.

"Not anymore, I don't," Clint screamed. "You fucking broke it, Loki! I gave it to you; _trusted_ you, and you just casually smashed it to pieces. I never gave so much of myself to anyone before, and that doesn't mean a goddamn thing to you. Because you're empty inside, Loki. You don't know how to love anyone; not Thor; not even _yourself_!"

Loki's eyes narrowed as he raised his hands and pried Clint's fingers from his shirtfront. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Agent Barton. Of course I love my brother; I have since I first laid eyes upon him. And as for your frail mortal heart? I sincerely doubt that it is truly broken. You are hurt by my supposed betrayal, angry that I will not bend to your will, and I think perhaps a little disappointed in yourself for giving me your full measure of trust. Such dramatics do not become you, though. They make you appear weak."

"Oh, so you even lie to yourself," Clint laughed. "Come on, Loki. Think. You claim to have loved Thor since you first laid eyes on him. Why do think that is?" Loki's brows knit together and he gave Clint a wary look. The archer smirked before continuing. "Because he's everything you always wanted to be…but couldn't. You don't love him; not in the true sense of the word. You just use him to make yourself feel better. And he's _safe_ because he's your brother, and nothing would ever make him leave you like all the others did."

The words shocked Loki into silence. He could only stare, stunned, down into his Hawk's all-too-observant eyes while they flashed up at him with that look he always got when he hit his target dead center. The wall was a cold slab at his back, holding him upright as those words circled in his skull.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" Clint said, finally taking a step back, leaving Loki slumped against the wall. "When someone fucking rips it right out from inside you and holds it up for you to see just how ugly it is. Now do you see, Loki? You're no different from me. You're no better."

"Still that flapping tongue of yours, Barton, before I pull it out," Loki hissed. "You know _nothing_ of me, if you truly believe your words."

"You don't get to threaten me," Clint growled. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it. When someone gets just a little too close for comfort, you try to push them away. You think I'm afraid of you? Of what you can do to me? Well guess what? You've already done just about the worst you could ever do. So go ahead, rip my tongue out. Crush my skull with your bare hands. Rip my fucking heart out of my chest, because _you might as well have already!"_ And with that, Clint's fist connected with the wall beside Loki's head hard enough to crack the plaster. The flare of pain in his knuckles was easy to ignore when his anger was still coursing hotly through his veins.

There was blood on the plaster when he pulled his fist back. Loki stared at the smear of red across Clint's knuckles, and his first instinct was to reach out and take that hand in his, pull it to him and lick the blood away to soothe the hurt. His jaw clenched at that thought; any other time and he wouldn't even have to think about it. Clint was his, it was only right that he take care of his hurts.

There was a flare of warm pain in his chest when he realized the only reason Clint was hurting right now was because of him.

"Clint," Loki began, hesitantly. "I-I would like…"

"No," the archer said flatly, cutting off Loki's attempt to speak. "I don't care about what you would like. Not anymore. You've fucked up everything, Loki. _Everything_. And I'll never get this hurt out of my head. No matter how much I'd like to just be able forget all of this, it's gonna stay with me forever. You cut me too deep for there not to be a scar."

Loki's mind raced as Clint continued on, his words sparking an idea; a horrible, wonderful idea. _'You could wipe all knowledge of this from his mind with just a bit of magic,'_ a quiet voice whispered from within. _'All suspicions, too. Then things could go back to the way they were before. You could keep your little Hawk…and have your brother, too.'_ Loki stared at Barton, at the rage and pain that shadowed his eyes and filled his voice. Could he truly be wiped clean? Returned to how he was prior to his revelation of this afternoon? And if so, what more might be lost in the process? No. It was not worth the risk. No matter how much Loki wished to turn back the clock, he could not take such actions to undo this mess. He would not meddle in his Hawk's mind again.

The demi-god huffed a deep sigh and raised one hand, palm out. "Please, Clint. Stop now. We could argue this until the end of days yet never reach an agreement. You are unwilling to accept the relationship that Thor and I share; I am unwilling to forsake him in your favor. I will not continue on in this vein any longer, as it will do nothing but cause you more pain. I-I would not see you hurt any further, so I will remove myself."

"So you're just going to run away," Clint said hollowly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I do _not_ run from anything, except, perhaps, the pain I have inflicted upon you. This was never my intent."

"Just…enough," Clint pleaded. "Enough lies. If you're going, just…go."

Loki gazed at Clint for a few moments longer, wishing for one last look at what he could no longer call his Hawk. He seemed so much smaller now, pulled into himself, as defeated as he'd ever been in his life. Loki swallowed the regret he could feel clamoring up from inside, so many words he could say now, but Clint would never believe a single one.

And wasn't this what he'd feared all along? The utter rejection stung no less now than it would have had Clint been the one to decide to leave. He would never admit to being weak enough to ask forgiveness, and so he would go, and let Clint heal from the gashes he'd inflicted with his betrayal.

The sound of the door opening was what started the tears again. Clint clenched his teeth and held them back, unwilling to let them spill where Loki could still see them. He could feel the eyes on him still as Loki stepped through the door, and he twisted his head away from even the peripheral glimpse he could see from the corner of his eye. The blank wall beside him stared back impassively.

"You have no reason to believe me, Clint," Loki said, his voice so close sending tremors through Clint's body before he could help it. "but I _am_ sorry that this has hurt you. I will not apologize for my relationship with Thor, because that _would_ be a lie. Just know that I never intended to hurt you."

Clint was silent for several beats as he tried to keep the tears in check. Despite his best efforts, they still managed to break free.

"You're right," he said, his voice sounding choked, "I don't believe you."

And because Clint was still avoiding his gaze for all he was worth, Loki allowed all of the regret he felt to show clearly on his face. It was lost on the back of Clint's head, however, and that more than anything caused the unexpected prickling of tears in his own eyes.

"Farewell, then, Clint Barton," he said, and stepped through the door, pulling it gently closed behind him.

When the door closed, it seemed to cut the strings holding Clint upright. He slumped back against the wall and slid down to the floor in a broken heap, and no amount of effort was going to keep the tears back this time. He didn't even bother to try as the tears became broken sobs. When it felt as if he might simply shatter into pieces, he wrapped his arms around himself and let his pain be muffled by the cradle of his own embrace.

Loki stood on the opposite side of the door, his hand still resting on the knob as he listened to the sobs muffled by the wooden barrier. His face twisted as he tried to restrain himself from allowing his own emotion to spill over, but Clint's vocalized pain tore into him in a way he had never experienced. He felt the urge to throw the door open and take his archer into his arms, soothing away all the hurt and begging his forgiveness. But as he turned, Loki realized that path was lost to him; as lost as Clint's love. No, he could never undo the harm he'd caused, never hope to erase the pain and regain his Hawk's trust. It was that thought, above all others that caused a lone tear to overflow and track down one pale cheek. He had abused the trust of the one person who had gifted such freely; the one person that should have no reason to give him such a thing. Loki released the handle and laid his open palm on the door, bowing his head and resting it against the cool wood, the haunting sounds of Clint's despair still bleeding through to pierce his heart.

"I _am_ sorry, Clint," he whispered, his fingertips stroking lightly against the door. "And I _did_ love you, in my own twisted way." Loki closed his eyes briefly, and then lifted his head, his expression once more placid and unreadable.

"Goodbye," he said quietly before turning and walking away, the echo of Clint's sobs ringing in his ears.


End file.
